All Heroes Gone
by Slasher2256
Summary: Set after 5 Years Gone. These Heroes have fallen. Now the ones remaining hide in compleate fear after the Nathan Petrelli Incident. It is said that 3 of the Heroes at the legendary Explosion are alive. Major OC and possible AU.
1. Prologue

Author's Note: Please don't flame me or hurt me or anything. I get frustrated at the lack of reveiws I get and I look at my stories and realize that they kind of lack enough detail and stuff. This story, I will add all of my heart into it. Btw, this is set in Five Years Gone but all of the original Heroes have died or disappeared. So it's all OC

-New York City, New York-

(Neal Winthrop 10:00 AM)

Neal Winthrop sat at his desk boredly. He never even cared about school. Neal did what he did every single class to drag him through the endless sands of time until the mirthless whine of the bell would ring through the hallways filled with grey tiles and faded blue lockers. He reflected upon his thoughts. One single thing had dared Neal to pay attention to the news for once, one single thing that had caught his attention and played with it like his attention would never become obtained by anything again. The President had disappeared for a few seconds and he never came back. The building right near where he was in Kirby Plaza that day had collasped. Corpses were found within it. In the President's closet, a girl's body was found as well. He fidgeted anxiously in his seat, as if the answer would come on after this long wait, just like a TV show. Neal didn't like being captured and drawn to something this easily. He glared around at nobody, seeing the plaintive faces staring forward at the white board as if manipulated to. He watched them intently. Watching them like a normal 16 year old shouldn't. But Neal wasn't normal. He never was. Neal noticed it all.

"Mr. Winthrop, is something bothering you?" the teacher drawled, not even caring.

"Yes, actually," Neal murmured softly as he turned to face forward like the rest.

"Well, what is it?" The teacher inquired with fake curiousity. Near allowed a razor thin sneer to make its way upon his lips.

"Do you know what happened to the President?" The question slithered out of his lips like a snake and Neal's words usually seemed to intimidate people. He made them think, he made himself feel superior as the rest of the class would watch a teacher squirm with a question he'd work all day on. To make someone older than him, more experienced than him, feel stupid made Neal feel so big. He was truly insecure that way.

"If I did, you would not be permitted to know," The reply came late and Neal's mouth twisted into an ugly line. He wanted a reaction, emotion, a struggle from the teacher. He began to wring out the hem of his shirt as his brows furrowed, his dark green optics averting from the teacher to stare blankly at the paper.

"You wouldn't care anyway, now would you, Mr. Winthrop..?" The teacher asked, now curiousity filling his voice accusingly. Neal stared up. The teacher was daring him to answer.

"What if I did?" Neal decided to take the bait, to play the game. This little fun would end class quickly.

"Do you?" The teacher returned the original question, begining the game of cat and mouse.

"Maybe I do," Neal's lips breathed lightly, his eyebrows raising mockingly. The class had leaned forward, intently focusing on their little gameplay.

"If you did," The teacher hissed with a wavering tone.

"You'd do what?" Neal's familiar sneer had graced itself upon his lips again, his brows lowering as he made himself comfortable within the seat.

"You're beating around the bush, Mr. Winthrop."

"As are you, Mr. Dewlong. Maybe you should just answer my original question," Neal intended to go farther than nessescary. He wanted to see a reaction now.

"The President?" Mused Mr. Dewlong. "Well...He.."

"Yes?" Neal purred lightly, leaning forward as his sneer broadened sickeningly.

"Mr. Winthrop, why do you believe this is your buisness?" More stalling. Neal was growing tired of this game very quickly.

"Just tell me or not," Neal let out a low growl, rising from his seat.

"Sit down, Neal." Mr. Dewlong stepped forward.

"I don't believe I will," Neal muttered, his eyes lingering upon the dirty window that hung to the wall at the other side of the class. The teacher advanced forward once more and Neal braced himself to run. The bell broke them from their intent match. Neal darted out the door and leaped down the stairs. He ignored the protesting moniter and burst out of the doors from the side of the school. He ran into the streets, only having his black hoodie, a plain grey T-shirt and jeans. His shoes heavily thudded hypnoticly against the hard concrete.

He burst into the apartment building and pounded up the metallic stairs. Neal lived on the third floor. He felt his heart pounding, his temples pulsing, his blood rushing. He allowed ice cold air lash at him, his throat longing for warmth instead of the labored breaths that allowed the air to whip at it and freeze it even more.

He slammed open the apartment door and rummaged through everything in his room. Neal obtained all of the essentials: Food, clothing, money, books, and his cell phone. He took the elevator down to regain his breath. Neal exit the apartment building a few minutes later, sauntering down the street to begin his journey that would connect with many others in a war against the one that truly started this all.


	2. Discussions

Author's Note: My story seems uniteresting? Good. I choose to dive into the story after a touch of build-up, see a reaction.

-Harriman, New York-

(Taylor Franklin 12:00 PM)

Taylor leaned forward at the empty lab table. Noone had chosen to sit with him. Perfect. He could observe. Taylor liked to observe, to classify, to judge, to imagine the possibilities with each and every person that plaintedly hated him. His eye bore into the back of Michael Niger. He had short blonde hair and looked athletic, but not athletic and sports defined enough to be at a jock level. He was cultured, Taylor decided. He smiled ruefully. Cultured seemed like a good word for Michael.

Taylor sighed boredly, running thin fingers through his curly black hair. Taylor hated how the others discriminated against him, using his own words, his own state of mind against him. They had classified him as a nerd. It seemed true only by looks. Of course, that was how Taylor judged others. By first appearance. Taylor was a good kid. At 5, he seemed pretty tan and handsome and fit. But now Taylor had gone into slight depression and scorn after moving from his best friends in Virginia. He hated how the silver rimmed bespectacles made him look. How he was so pale now, so ignored. How his hair became unruly. Judging people was addicting, Taylor had decided one day. On his first day, he'd try to make friends. But friends from other schools had cut through him, had made him leave the friends he made. He found an error in judging people, in making them want to die so horribly. But each time he'd try to make a friend, someone would make fun of him worse and worse. And he felt that judging people eased the pain, allowed him to not speak his mind so others wouldn't viciously attack him.

"You're Taylor, right?" His head shot up. There stood a girl. She wore a pink jacket and had black curly hair tied back in a bun. He raised his eyebrows curiously.

"Yes, do you need anything or..?" Taylor's words sounded pretty rude, but his expression showed his very hard try at being nice.

"Well," the girl sat down next to him, "You just seem angry. All of the time."

"Why would a perfect stranger care..?" Taylor had known this game. He was 13, but he had skipped 8th grade as he was passing from 7th. He knew the games girls would play. They'd act all nice and then one day act like nothing happened to see a major reaction from Taylor. To giggle about it with their friends. To make him feel worse and worse.

"Why wouldn't someone care? You look like that all day." The girl sounded genuinely concerned. "You look like you want to kill something and then you look all depressed. I've seen those cheerleaders play mind games with you."

"Yeah, well, I kind of asked for it. I shouldn't have decided to accept the offer to skip a grade. I should've just gone to 8th grade and let thigns be more tame there."

"You're kind, you're sweet," the girl persisted. "You try to be friends with people who do want to be friends but other kids are just jerks."

"Then if there are people who want to be my friend, why am I here alone?"

"You just havn't found the right people." The girl's smile brightened Taylor up.

"What's your name?" Taylor inquired. The girl grinned.

"I'm Samantha."

-Midland, Texas-

(Karin Pines 2:00 PM)

Karin stared at the small memorial for the brunette waitress she had learned to know and befriend. Her brows knitted, her breath intaking sharply.

"What happened to Sandra?" She asked a nearby waitress.

"Sandra was killed the same way as Charlie 'bout 5 years back, hun'." The reply was quiet, soft, yet it seemed to shatter every single one of Karin's nerves like a window. She turned and ran into the bathroom to wipe her tears away. Karin rushed into a thick haze that shrouded the whole room. Stood there was the tall elegant figure belonging to Djuana Angels. The straight auburn hair came to an end upon the angle of her open showing collarbone. Djuana turned, perking a brow at Karin. Karin's eyes involuntarily averted to the NO SMOKING sign above the long line of mirrors. Then the light blue irises made their way back to rest upon Djuana.

"What?" she asked menacingly, a small smirk growing upon her face. Karin's breath hitched lightly.

"D-did you hear about Sandra..?" Karin trembled, avoiding the original question. The smile on Djuana's face faded.

"Yes. I heard she was killed by Sylar." Her tone rang out through the thick blanket of smoke that was slowly blinding Karin.

"Sylar..?" Karin asked and she was lead by Djuana out of the bathroom and out of the resturant.

"Yes. Don't talk about it in public." Djuana's harsh voice quieted Karin. "I heard he killed Nathan Petrelli and used some illusion power to diguise himself for a while. All of them, Karin. Every single on of the Heroes fought. Peter Petrelli, Hiro Nakamura."

"Hiro Nakamura was a terrorist," Karin's voice didn't belong to her. The tone was ice cold. She was always kind and happy.

"Was he? They labeled anyone who had powers a terrorist." Djuana murmured softly, her eyebrows raised.

Karin's eyes averted Djuana's. Did she know? Karin prayed not.

-New York City, New York-

(Neal Winthrop 5:00 PM)

Neal was on the subway. He had a lot of money saved up. He had eaten lunch and then bought a ticket. His eyes roamed curiously amongst the subway. There wern't many people on. A few guys Neal didn't find very interesting. They kept muttering to each other. He sighed and stared out the window. Not much scenery. It was all dark. Neal had nothing to do at all. The two men stood her, Nela's eyes snapping to their prescence.

"Yo, this kid's only 'bout 16, no doubt we'll get 'im." One said excitedly. They approached him and one heald a small jack knife right to his neck.

"Giv'us yo' money, kid," He stated. Neal's eyebrows raised lightly.

"Do you want to do that?" he murmured lightly. His eyes glanced at the knife again.

"We ain't playin' around anymore, kid. Give us the god damn money."

"No, I need it. I don't believe you need any of my money." Neal was smart on them. He was pleased when the knife lightly slashed his cheek, allowing blood to trickling down his chin. It was a definate reaction. Neal felt the warm blood gush against his neck as the knife pressed lightly against it. He knew it would come out easily.

"Your money?" One asked, handing out his palm. Neal didn't feel like having to resort to fighting. He reached out his hand and it mades its way to his pocket before quickly changing coarses to grasp the man's wrist. Neal's other hand shot up and grasped the man's knife wrist, pulling it away. His eyes grew dark as crimson spikes portruded from everywhere of his body. Neal released the hands, watching the blood flow so freely from the wrists. The crimson spikes receeded back into body and Neal nudged the two with his knee. He finally kicked them and slammed open the car's door, shoving both out into the tunnel of darkness that he left in a blinding noise of the engine roaring seconds later.

-Midland, Texas-

(Djuana Angels 9:00 PM)

Djuana leaned against her dresser, staring at her parents with curiosity.

"What?" The sardonic voice asked irritably, brows furrowing. Dark blue eyes scanned the two adults that stood firmly in her room. She crossed her arms, blunt tipped violet nails lightly waving in the air with annoyance.

"Well, I got a new job," Mrs. Angels spoke first, "So we'll be moving."

Djuana gave a look of general shock but it quickly faltered, 17 year old teenager mentally chastising herself for almost giving her parents an excuse to try and comfort her for something she didn't honestly care about.

"Where?" Djuana's voice lightly cracked and she chastised herself again, a scowl growing upon the girl's lips.

"Harriman, New York." Her father answered with a small sigh.

"Okay. When?"

"Over the next weekend. It'll be a three day weekend so you can have a nice free day to meet the neighbors." Her mother tried to contemplate things, but it was futile.

"Yeah, whatever," Djuana ended the conversation with no emotion in the final sentance. Her parents gave her a look of worry and left. Djuana sat upon her bed and dwelled on the situation. No more Karin. Perky little Karin. But something had bothered Djuana today. The way Karin had spoken. So coldly. About someone she didn't even know. She shook her head as if a fly was annoying her.

"Well," she said softly, allowing a cat-like smile to grace her lips, "Maybe this'll be fun."

"Just as long as _nobody_ finds out."

-Harriman, New York-

(Samantha Shellson 11:00 PM)

Samantha knew she shouldn't have walked on the street alone. She knew she should've atleast taken the bus. But here she was, being chased down by some shadowed figure that wouldn't say a single word to her. Samantha tripped on a nearby tin can and she let out a cry as she hit the wet ground. She struggled to stand but as she finally prepared to run again, she was held by some invisable force. Samantha let tears spill upon her face to mingle with the dark blood that soon spilled from her forehead..


	3. Intertwined

Author's Note: Yeah. Once again, I am frustrated with no reveiws. I feel like you laugh at my story irl and make fun of it. So if you really like my story, reveiw pleaseee! I know I'm a begger and such, but still. The only reveiws I've ever gotten on any stories were like, flames. So yeah. I feel bad.

-Harriman, New York-

(Djuana Angels 10:00 AM)

The car door slammed shut, Djuana leaned against the dark blue Honda. Her eyes wandered around the small neighborhood with boredom. All she wanted was for school to start so she could get on with her life already. She spotted a young boy sitting on his rooftop, merely staring at her.

"What do you want?" Djuana asked loudly. The boy stood up and leaped down from the rooftop.

"Nothing much. You're new right?" The boy asked as he crossed his arms.

"So what if I am?" Djuana replied, mirroring his image.

"Well, I'm looking for a friend," The boy said plainly. He didn't blush or anything. He looked so much younger than Djuana, yet he stood up to her so bravely.

"What's your name?" Djuana drawled.

"Taylor. Taylor Franklin," He allowed a smile to grace his lips as his eyebrows raised. "And you?"

"Djuana Angels. Nice to meet you, I s'pose..." She averted his gaze. This kid wasn't normal.

"Do you go to the high school?" Taylor asked, staring in the same direction as her.

"Yes. Do you?" Djuana perked a brow, wondering if he would.

"I do, in fact. I skipped 8th grade." Taylor's eyes were set now, he looked so calm.

"Wouldn't you have any friends if you skipped a grade..?" She inquired, stepping forward. Taylor shrunk back slightly.

"I did meet a girl a few days ago, but apparently she was found with the top of her head sawed off or something." His voice cracked only slightly. Djuana understood. He didn't care about the loss of a friend because he must be a subject to cruelty, but the fact that someone was killed in a manner such as that way..

"Do you think Sylar's alive?"

Djuana looked startled. "Why?"

"That's how he killed people," Taylor murmured softly. "He gets to their brains to obtain their powers."

"How do you know this..?" Djuana was very interested now.

"How would you not.." He muttered.

Djuana scowled. "Yeah, sure. Good for you.."

"Three gifted ones remain."

Djuana turned. "What?"

"Three gifted ones remain. Survivors of the explosion. They hunt, they battle, they die. In search of the ones remaining out in the open, these three will kill for the other abilties. They shall kill each other. But in the midst of the end, only one of the three shall remain. And as we are about to die, the past shall shatter. We will remain 5 years within the future as the explosion is subdued."

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Djuana shouted. Taylor's eyes were glazed over, a milky white. His voice was mesmerizing, entracing.

"We must not succumb to humanity and give up as we bleed, as we ache. We must continue to walk forward and stay alive until the future is changed."

Taylor blinked and his eyes returned to normal. He looked dazed and finally passed out onto the ground.

-Midland, Texas-

(Karin Pines 12:00 PM)

Karin looked around cautiously as she entered the small shack behind her house. She spun around to face the fallen man. Karin gripped a wet washcloth strongly, begining to dab the man's wounds. She examined him again, like she did every single day. He had long dark hair with eyes to match. He looked rugged and strong and the most noticible thing that Karin would eventually ask about was the scar that ran diagonally across his face. He groaned slightly.

"You're up finally," The Texan accent rang through the shack. He groaned again.

"Sy..Sylar.." A murmur escaped his lips and he flinched.

Karin froze. "Sylar? What about him..?"

"He's...Alive. He must've killed...Claire." The man gasped.

"Claire...?" Karin inquired. She stopped dabbing at the wounds, looking in horror as they healed themselves.

"Y-you have powers too?" She squeaked. The man sat up, staring her in the eye.

"Too? Wait, nevermind. First off, who are you..?" He asked, his voice hoarse.

"My name is Karin Pines. What about you..?"

"My name..Is Peter Petrelli."

-Bronx, New York-

(Neal Winthrop 3:00 PM)

Neal had ended up here in the Bronx. It had bothered him that he couldn't get far. He stretched his neck to see around. Neal had no home and he couldn't run forever. He knew that the video tape on the subway would be shown of him using his own ability. The police would be after him. Neal was officially a terrorist. He started off in search for more people to help him. Neal was not going to die alone atleast.

"Watch it," A mutter came from noone as Neal was rammed to the side. He spun around, searching franticly for the person that had spoken to him. All Neal could see was over people being shoved out of the way by some invisable force. He followed it in earnest. He followed the distinct noise of the footsteps all through an apartment up to the rooftop. A group of pegions perched on the ledge, making noise. A soft murmur could be heard, Neal gazing forward at nothing.

"Hello?" He asked. A man cried out and jumped, appearing out of nowhere. Neal stepped back as the man stared at him before becoming invisable once more.

-Harriman, New York-

(Djuana Angels 10:00 PM)

Djuana still dwelled on the way that boy had spoken, on what he had said. She lie on her back upon the soft bed, her head resting on the pillows. She finally seemed to drift off to sleep.

Djuana wandered through a street fileld with bright light. She saw herself and that Taylor kid. Her brows furrowed. Didn't this already happen?

"It did," An Indian accent rang out from nowhere. Djuana turned to face a young boy with long black hair. He smiled slightly.

"Who are you?" Djuana barked, stepping forward. The boy made no response at all, merely smiling on.

"My name is Sanjog Iyer, Djuana."

-San Francisco, California-

(Grant Highens 11:00 PM)

Grant merely stared forward at the woman before him. She didn't seem normal, but of course, he wasn't either. She was much older than him and had a faint accent he couldn't grasp.

"What's your name?" Grant whispered, stepping forward.

"It is Hana Gitelman. Across the world, Mr. Highens, you people with abilities are found by others to prevent something."

"Prevent what?" The choked question came, Grant stepping back now.

"The end of the world."


	4. Conjoined

Author's Note: I really enjoy writing this story. I like all of the darkness and all of the connections. In my opinion and probably yours too, this is one of the best fanfics I've written. Btw, until like ch. 10, I'm gonna introduce a person in every chapter. (It can be an OC or another existing Hero)

-Midland, Texas-

(Peter Petrelli 8:00 AM)

Peter woke up again while that young Karin girl was hovering above him, a small smile on her face.

"Breakfast?" She asked, lifting up the tray in her hands slightly. Peter nodded gratefully. He took a fork and began to shovel down all of the food he could eat. He heard Karin snort in amusement but chose to ignore her.

"So," Peter said between mouthfuls, "how old are you?"

"Me? I'm 19," Karin replied nonchalantly. "What about you?"

"I'm 31.." Peter answered. He swallowed and stared at his plate for a second.

"What?" Karin asked, walking forward.

"Why did you choose to save me?" Peter asked, a scowl growing on his face. Karin rose her eyebrows and finally smirked.

"I'm not one to leave a dieing man. And..It felt like I had to." She answered quietly.

'You had to..?"

"Yeah. It felt just right." She smiled at Peter. "So what's with the scar?"

"It's personal, I can't trust you enough." Peter answered, his eyes lowering back to the tray. Karin snorted again.

"Course you can trust me. I'm, after all, like you."

-Harriman, New York-

(Djuana Angels 10:00 AM)

Djuana sat at a desk, awaiting for the principle to reply to her. He still looked over the papers she had given him.

"So you want to be a secretary?" He inquired. Djuana mutely nodded.

"Alright, then. Get to work." The principle said with a small smile. Djuana switched over to the empty desk and turned on the computer. She looked over the folder that he had returned to her. Djuana's job was to sort out files or something, just like always. She loaded them up and stared at the file that immedeately came into place. Taylor Franklin. She scanned it interestingly.

**General:**

**Name: Taylor Franklin**

**Age: 13**

**Gender: Male**

**Birthdate: 07/17/94**

**Location: Harriman, NY**

**Sign: Cancer**

**Appearance:**

**Height: 5"3'**

**Weight: 109 lbs**

**Eye Color: Dark green**

**Hair Color: Black**

**Family:**

**Parents: Johnathan and Lynette Franklin**

**Siblings: None**

**Other:**

**Mr. Franklin seems to take very much interest in astrology and diviniation. He believes in palm readings and futures told in different meanings. Once during 3rd grade class, he has been reported to have his eyes 'a milky white'. FBI looks into Mr. Franklin in suspect of being a terrorist.**

Djuana stared in disbelief. A terrorist!? Even if Taylor had abilities, it would be telling the future. How would that label him a terrorist? She shook her head and stared at the book in her bag. She picked it up, not remembering when she had taken a book.

Activating Evolution by Chandra Suresh.

-Bronx, New York-

(Neal Franklin 12:00 PM)

Neal stared at the scraggly man that paced before him. The man would occasionally stop to glare at Neal. Neal merely stared back emotionlessly.

"So you turn invisable?" He finally asked, perked a brow. The man nodded curtly.

"What do you do?" He had a faint British accent, Neal decided.

"I can't really describe it. Just call me...A porcupine." Neal murmured with that familiar sneer.

"A porcupine? You spike yourself?" The man began to pace again. Neal snickered.

"I guess. I'm trying to project the needles or something, to advance it."

"Why would you want to do that? With powers like yours, your a lot more terrorist than the other ones are." He murmured.

"I don't care." Neal shrugged. "I've always wanted a purpose, a bit of excitement. Annoying teachers, making them squirm. It wasn't enough."

The man gave a small smile. "Well. Interesting. How old are you?"

"16." Neal ran his fingers through short brown hair. "I'm not going to ask you because age doesn't make much of a difference. Identity does."

"You have an odd perspective of things, only counting people or anything if their nessecary."

"My parents didn't seem to count me as they abandon me. I turned out fine only caring about people who could truly help me." Neal muttered scornfully. The man perked a brow.

"So, about all of this identity. What's your name?"

"Neal Winthrop. What about you..?"

"Just call me Claude."

-San Francisco, California-

(Grant Highens 1:00 PM)

Grant walked among the streets. His eyes gazed around wearily. That Gitelman woman had warned him about something, given him a list of names and phone numbers, and left. He turned down a corner. The streets seemed so less crowded today. He looked around again. He knew that some Sylar guy was after him and others. He wondered if Sylar would attack him first.

"Grant Highens, police." Grant felt the slam of a baton against his back. He fell to the ground and stared at the officer above him. She was a woman with short red hair.

"What the hell!?" Grant shouted, trying to stand up. Others restrained him.

"You have abilities and thus you are a terrorist. You will be put into solitude and it will be decided on wheather you get the chair or the injection."

"Damn it!" Grant swore. He glared around. "Fine. Want a sneek preveiw at my abilities!? You'll see 'em now."

"Knock him out." One ordered. Grant took another hit of the baton.

"Sleep." He hissed. "Sleep..."

The officers swayed. Grant's words grew into a slur, a peaceful lullaby.

"Sleep.." He whispered. All of the officers passed out on the ground. Grant rose up to a stand and ran as fast as he could.

-Baltimore, Maryland-

(Dakota Larson 3:00 PM)

Dakota was sick of running away. He had no idea where the hell in Baltimore he was. He wandered around aimlessly and saw a sign for food. He ignored all of the other words. He stumbled in.

"Kid, you 18?" A guard asked. Dakota nodded warily. He had turned 18 a month ago. The guard let him pass. He stared around. Poles were featured directly in front of a large ground. Music was playing. He looked around for food.

"And now...JESSICA!" A voice screamed out of a speaker. The crowd cheered. Dakota swayed and stared at a woman in see through clothing walked down to the pole. She had short brown hair but Dakota could tell it was a wig. He suddenly realized with a sinking feeling in his gut that he was in a stripper's joint.

-Harriman, New York-

(Djuana Angels 7:00 PM)

"Taylor, you have abilities." Djuana commented as she lead him outside. Taylor seemed calm.

"Yup. They labeled me as a terrorist for it too. I can't do much." He commented dryly. Djuana smirked.

"I saw. I have abilities too." Djuana revealed, awaiting for the surprised. Yet again, Taylor was calm.

"Yup.." He echoed himself. "And you need my help in finding this kid that came to you in your dreams."

"Wow. You really can tell the future."

"Only in dreams. I bet if it advanced, I can tell stuff seconds before it happens."

"Impressive. So anways, about the kid." Djuana steered the conversation back. "I need you to stay with me while I get him."

"You're gonna fall asleep?" Taylor inquired. Djuana's smirk broadened.

"No. I'm gonna do something else. Can't you tell the future?"

"I woke up," he answered with a smirk of his own. Djuana merely stared at him for a second before staring forward. She focused on Sanjog's face, on his voice. Her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. She opened them and a few seconds later, he appeared out of thin air.

"Woah," Taylor took a step back. Sanjog merely smiled, his eyes lowering.

"I understand you are in need of help."

-Midland, Texas-

(Karin Pines 9:00 PM)

"Show me again," Peter ordered softly, his brows furrowed deeply. Karin smirked and felt the sickening feeling of her joints dislocating. She slapped her limp arm around a pole and both observed as it snaked itself around it. It quickly unwound and the joints snapped back into place skillfully. Karin ran her fingers through her short dark red hair. Peter watched her and grasped her hand. He closed his eyes in concentration and finally opened them. Karin heard a sickening crack and watched as Peter's head hung back, as if without a neck. He leaned forward and they snapped back into place.

"Awesome," Karin murmured.

-New York City, New York-

(Hana Gitelman 11:00 PM)

Hana spun around to face him. Sylar. He looked ragged. She tried to step back but found that her body was frozen by him.

"I finally found you." Sylar hissed and slowly dragged his finger along in the air, ignoring the screams of anguish that rang through the air.


	5. Death

Author's Note: Omg. I just realized that half of the OC's in this story have some kind of emotional or attitude problem. I find it funny. Btw, this is not a happy chapter. Not at all. And no new person this chapter. Its short and sad.

-Baltimore, Maryland-

(Nikki Sanders 8:00 AM)

Nikki stared at the kid sleeping on her couch. He had passed out during Nikki's preformance and she knew it. That he was special. She sighed and stared to a picture on the wall.

"Peter.."

-Midland, Texas-

(Peter Petrelli and Karin Pines 10:00 AM)

"I have to go," Peter murmured as he walked away from Karin for the second time. She didn't seem to understand it, his mission.

"You're not well enough to go!" She persisted, stepping forward. Peter cast her a smile and flew off into the air, leaving a small ring of clouds in his wake. Karin fell to her knees and let out a small cry. Then, after pondering upon the matter, she darted inside to go call Djuana.

-Harriman, New York-

(Djuana Angels, Sanjog Iyer, and Taylor Franklin 11:00 AM)

"Hello?" Djuana answered her cell phone. She heard a sniffle and then another.

"Djuana," Karin cried lightly, "he left."

"Who did?" Djuana perked a brow, not knowing what was happening.

"Peter! He just flew off!" Karin sounded hysteric. Djuana almost dropped the phone.

"P-peter? Peter Petrelli?" She asked in disbelief. A muffled yes sobbed on the other end. Djuana turned back to Sanjog and Taylor.

"Taylor," she hissed, "Is Peter Petrelli one of the ones that remain!?"

Taylor nodded, staring around cautiously.

"Karin, are you ready to come over?" Djuana asked kindly, biting her lip.

"I want to see you, Djuana, but its too far."

"No it isnt. Just hold on tight.." Djuana said and squeezed her eyes shut. She opened them in a gasp of air and Karin came out of nowhere. Karin screamed.

"What the hell!?" She screeched. "Who are these pe--"

"Shut up!" Djuana shouted. She motioned for them to be quiet. Someone seemed to be hovering around. It didn't feel right.

Taylor gave a suddenly blank stare and life returned to his eyes seconds later.

"We have to run." He said. Without any other word, he pulled the other three along into Djuana's house, not letting them see the landing man nearby.

-Bronx, New York-

(Neal Winthrop and Claude 11:30 AM)

"Open the door!" Someone shouted and the wooden entrance to Neal and Calude's fortress slammed down. Claude turned invisable and both ran out the window to scitter down the fire escape. They ignored the bullets whizzing past them. Claude pulled Neal along down the alley that the officers followed in earnest.

"CLAUDE! JUST GO!" Neal shouted over the noise. He saw the metal pole nearby lift up on its own and heard the angry battlecry of the oncoming Claude. Neal gave one last glance before running forward to ignore the shot and the empty grunt that came from the dieing man moments later.

-Harriman, New York-

(Djuana Angels, Taylor Franklin, Sanjog Iyop, Karin Pines, and Sylar 12:00 PM)

Screams rang through the house as Sylar fought against the four young Heroes. All together, the strongest seemed to be Karin, who had him in a neck bind.

"What the hell did you see?" Djuana screamed at Taylor.

"I saw him fighting us all and you dieing as the rest ran away." Taylor murmured softly, giving her an apologetic look. Djuana looked at Sylar in horror and darted forward.

"EVERYONE GET OUT NOW! HE'S MINE!" She screamed and all obeyed. Sylar had pinned her against a wall seconds later with ease. Taylor stopped halfway through the driveway and went back. He knew what was in his house. He slammed in and tackled Sylar from behind.

"DJUANA! GET THE GASOLINE FROM THE BOX IN THE GARAGE AND POUR IT AROUND!" He instructed, holding onto Sylar as long as he could. He couldn't really see much, but heard the gentle glugging of the gasoline on the floor. Taylor kicked forward and shoved Djuana out.

"TAYLOR, DON'T!" She screamed as he used his father's lighter to set the gasoline on fire. Ignoring the burns on his hands, Taylor began up the stairs.

"The future isn't written in stone, it can always be changed," he said with a smile to Djuana. He hurried up the stairs and heard Sylar following. After rumaging under the bed, Taylor opened a breifcase to find a pistol. Taylor spun around and shot Sylar twice, sending him over the railing into the fire once more. The footsteps pounding up the stairs came seconds later.

"Damn healer," he muttered and pointed the gun to his head as Sylar came into veiw.

"Let's see how good my brain is now," He murmured with a grin to Sylar. The shot rang out loudly and over the roar of the fire, he knew Djuana and the others could hear it. Taylor fell to his knees, jerking as blood gushed from his mouth. His trembling hand pulled the trigger again, and he stopped jerking.


	6. Meeting

Author's Note: I believe all of my characters have been introduced. Nikki, Sylar, Peter, Djuana, Claude, Neal, Dakota, Grant, Hana, Karin, Taylor, and Sanjog. With this chapter, a lot go away.

-Harriman, New York-

(Djuana Angels, Karin Pines, and Sanjog Iyer 4:00 PM)

They had finally stopped in the middle of nowhere in the dense forest. Karin sobbed lightly and Djuana didn't say a word. One member of their group was shot and they knew they could do nothing about it.

"Sanjog, I'm sorry for bringing you all into this, but your just putting your life at stake." Djuana murmured. Sanjog merely nodded and understood as Djuana shut her eyes in concentration, sending him back to India. She let out a long woosh of air.

"Djuana, he's dead. He's dead.." Karin wailed softly. Djuana shook her head.

"This time. It doesn't feel right. I know that things will change, Karin. I know that Taylor isn't dead forever. The future isn't written in stone." She let out a small smile.

"Where do we go?" Karin asked, her voice still cracking.

"We go back, Karin. Where it all began. Years ago. Taylor told me to.." Djuana muttered, eyeing around cautiously.

"Midland?"

"No, but close. We go to Odessa."

-Baltimore, Maryland-

(Nikki Sanders and Dakota Larson 6:00 PM)

"I think I should go, Ms. Sanders. I'm just a bother," Dakota said one night.

"C'mon, you're not that bad." Nikki grinned, trying to make the boy feel better.

"I need to go to Odessa. A friend and I plan to meet there."

"Odessa? Why..?" Nikki inquired curiously, leaning forward.

"Its where it all began and its where it all ends," he breathed, standing up. "Later, Ms. Sanders."

"Bye.." Nikki gave a small frown as Dakota left. She walked to the window and saw him clench his fists, wind rotating around him to carry him in a quick current that sped off into the horizon. Her brows furrowed as she went for the door to get a better look. Her body tightened up all together.

"Hello, Nikki."

-San Francisco, California-

(Grant Highens 8:00 PM)

Grant allowed a corner of his mouth to tilt upwards. He'd meet Dakota in Odessa, making Dakota wait forever. Grant wasn't a travel kind of person. He'd call himself more of a...Narcotic. He sighed and began to walk off, wondering how to get to Odessa so quickly. He didn't have enough money for a plane ticket at all and he couldn't just try to drive all the way there. He didn't notice the raging winds lifting his body inches, feet off the ground. He gave a full-fledged grin now.

"Damn you, Dakota. Stupid show off."

-Bronx, New York-

(Neal Winthrop 10:00 PM)

Neal leaned against a brick wall, soon slumping against it with a sigh. His hair was matted with dirt and his face held a mixture of grime and blood. Being a terrorist wasn't what it was all cracked up to be. He heard the soft landing of someone nearby and leaped to his feet, taking a wild stance. The man raised a hand, a signal for him to calm down.

"Neal Winthrop. I'm understanding you need a ride," Peter murmured with a small smile.

-Odessa, Texas-

(Grant Highens and Dakota Larson 11:00 PM)

Grant and Dakota had made it first. They looked around. It was barren, a bomb field almost. They awaited for someone else to arrive. And then it all happened. First, Djuana appeared right behind them and summoned Karin as well. Then Peter landed, Neal gripping onto him for dear life. Soldiers began to surround them all. They formed a circle and took stances until it happened. There, in the distance of the moonlight, Sylar landed with a soft thud. He grinned and fire seemed to flicker in his eyes. And the wave of fire erupted and the final confrontation began.


	7. Final Confrontation

Author's Note: This is the second to last chapter. After this comes the epilogue. Sorry for the short chapters lately.

-Odessa, Texas-

(Every Hero 11:00 PM)

Guns began to fire from the soldiers and the confrontation broke out, screams filling the air. They all charged at Sylar, a large vortex of wind keeping the bullets away. Sylar merely broke into a smirk and cocked his head, clenching his fist. Peter shot forward first, the fist sending him flying back with amazing force. He rose to a stand and stared at Sylar in horror.

"Nikki.." His breathe of awe or fear seemed to ring through the air and hung like a question. Sylar let out a mere nod.

"SPLIT UP!" Djuana barked. "LET THEM FIGHT!" She and Karin ran in one direction while Dakota and Grant went in the other, Neal following Djuana and Karin. They ignored the bullets with ease, breaking away from sight of Grant and Dakota. Explosion nows erupted from the air, probably Sylar's doing. Neals' rasped, jagged breaths seemed only audible to him as his lungs franticly tried to regain lost air. They heard the shouts of Peter and Sylar. Finally, the three hid behind a large boulder, peeking out from the side to see Sylar overcoming Peter. Peter dangled helplessly in the air, his legs flailing wildly until they hung like a rag doll's. He dropped dead with a thud upon the ground, this man growing too powerful for them all.

Djuana and the others stared in awe at Sylar as he approached. Grant rushed up to them, covered in blood. He panted and sniffed at once in hysterics.

"He's dead! Dakota's dead! Th-they shot him!" He practically sobbed. The rock rolled to the side and the three began running again. No. Karin stood up and tackled Sylar to the ground without warning. Djuana stopped and turned to see her snake herself around Sylar's body, preparing to snap his neck at any cost. She began to run again.

"Whatever happens, we need to keep on running," Neal said worriedly, obviously hearing the frantic shouts of Karin. More shots fired. Fire rose up from the ground to burn off Neal's cuff. Djuana's arm was grazed by a bullet. Grant's labored breaths were loud, almost as if he was screaming. She quickly strained her neck to see behind, seeing Sylar sauntering torwards them. A shot broke her from her thoughts.

Grant gripped at his chest, tears pouring freely down his face as blood drenched his shirt. He fell to his knees and Djuana felt neal pull her forward.

"He just died! We can't go--"

"Don't," Neal replied, every single muscle in his face tense, "Say anything. We're not going to greive and die."

"We have to do something!" Djuana persisted.

"Too late for that." Neal sighed. More shots fired and an explosion send Neal falling to his knees by surprise. Sylar had reached him by then. Djuana stared numbly. The look in Neal's eyes told her to run again. She merely stumbled backwards, watching spikes erupt from his whole body to allow the boy to puncture Sylar's skull. The man regenerated and grinned before it faded seconds afterwards. His body cast a ghastly glow of the faintest yellow that seemed to pulse through him. He took another breath and exploded into a large wave of fire that engulfed Neal. Djuana screamed and ran.

She tripped over a rock, scraping up her arms. Her legs were engulfed by the fire and all Djuana could remember was the ember flames coming right at her face.


	8. Epilogue

Author's Note: This is the epilogue. I have compleated this story and once again, it is much shorter than I imagined. I'm asking you for something, readers. Give me an idea for another story in a reveiw. If it focuses around one char, even a one-shot. I just want to continue writing. Any stories you want finished? Ask me.

-Odessa, Texas-

Her legs were engulfed by the fire and all Djuana could remember was the ember flames coming right at her face.

And everything stopped. Djuana struck in mid pose, her mouth open in a scream, her arm shielding her face in a futile attempt at protection. The fire slowly shrank back along with everything else and then a white light came to engulf everything and put everyone where it started.

-Midland, Texas-

(Karin Pines and Djuana Angels 12:00 PM)

Every single scene of the past experience flashed through Djuana's eyes and she ended up back in the smoke filled pit, Karin staring at her in awe.

"You're alive," the soft murmur was followed by a scream of rejoice, the two embracing.

"WE'RE ALIVE!" They both shouted in unison, leaping up and down.

"Taylor was right! That everything would change as we're all about to die!" Djuana exclaimed. Her smile faded and realization struck her face.

"Taylor."

-Harriman, New York-

(Taylor Franklin 12:00 PM)

Taylor let a sharp intake of breath bring him back to reality. He stared around wildly, his eyes unreadable. And they sought out Samantha. He let out a small smile.

"Hey, Samantha." He said. She gave him a curious look and sat next to him.

"If you know me so well, why don't you have any friends?" she asked with a smile of her own. Taylor allowed color to stain his cheeks as his eyebrow perked.

"I just havn't found the right people."

-New York City, New york-

(Neal Winthrop 12:00 PM)

Neal coughed loudly, almost falling out of his chair. Mr. Dewlong raised his eyebrows and allowed a sneer to cross his face.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Winthrop?" He drawled. Neal looked around and smirked.

"No, actually. Everything's perfect..." He murmured more to himself than to the teacher.

And he had ment it.

-San Francisco, California-

(Grant Highens and Dakota Larson 12:00 PM)

Grant merely nodded to Dakota, who looked over his body in search of bullet wounds. All around, the Heroes that died had reality flash past their eyes for a split second to realize they started off exactly where it all began for them. They had saved the world, they had endured the hardship of Sylar, and they had no succumb to humanity. This time around, no Heroes were gone at all.


End file.
